Page 135 of Stalking Ginevra

He raises his head, finally meeting my gaze. His eyes are so bloodshot, I wonder if it's more than just the booze.

“Wouldn’t you have done the same if it meant keeping Ginny Di Marco?”

Throat thickening, I swallow, my thoughts shifting back to Ginevra. If I’d made her pregnant five years ago, then she wouldn’t have left me for Samson. Her desire to protect that child would have been stronger than her desire to protect her mother.

Would a baby tie her to me, now? My fingers flex at the possibility.

“It’s not the worst idea,” I murmur.

Scoffing, Roman tosses back the rest of his drink. “My timing was fucked. She was supposed to discover the pregnancy before the revelation, but she figured it all out. Then she locked me in that fucking dungeon before I could explain why I stole her inheritance.”

“You only took back Dad’s assets,” I mutter.

Roman sets down the glass with a clink, his features tight with regret. After several beats of silence, I cross the room, lower myself into an armchair and pick up the decanter. After topping up Roman’s glass, I pour myself a shot.

Ginevra needs someone to fixate on other than her mother... or her libido. She would give her all to a helpless baby. If she can’t commit to me, then she will to our child.

That’s if she hasn’t already skipped town. She would think about leaving, but that would leave Losanna exposed. Shaking my head, I shove aside the thought. There’s more to deal with than the mess I’ve made of my marriage.

“You think she’ll forgive you for that?” I ask, already suspecting the answer.

He leans back against the sofa, rubbing his face with both hands like he’s trying to erase the memory. “Would you?”

I shake my head, not wanting to add to his misery, and keep my mouth shut. My thoughts drift back to Ginevra, the way her body surrendered to mine—to Brisket’s. How she came around another man’s cock, milking me to the point of insanity.

Arousal surges to my groin, making me stiffen.

What the fuck? Does that make me a cuck?

I shove away the image. Not now. I have to focus.

Roman’s gaze burns the side of my face, his bloodshot eyes sharpening. No one knows I’m back with Ginevra, except maybe my cousin, since I needed a woman at my side to give the appearance of moving on. Elania mocked me relentlessly. She was the worst choice of wingwoman, but there’s no way I could get Aria into a dress.

My brother’s idea wasn’t bad. His execution was off, but I might be able to improve on his manipulation. Pregnancy could anchor Ginevra to me for at least another two decades. That, and a touch of financial control.

But I push those thoughts aside. “Gil found Dad’s Mercedes,” I say, watching him from the corner of my eye. “Cubed.”

His body tenses. “Where?”

“Scrapyard.”

Roman sighs, his grip tightening on the glass. For a second, I think he’s going to throw it against the wall. “I told her how much the car meant to me. That was probably her last fuck you.”

My jaw tightens. “That was low, even for a Capello.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Emberly isn’t like them,” he rasps. “She’s good and sweet and kind. I should have explained the situation to her from the start.”

“And have her run into her cousin Galliano’s arms?” I ask.

“She wouldn’t.”

“Cesare and his little assassin were held hostage by the Galliano brothers. She told them how she left you to die. That’s how he knew where to find you.”

Roman sits up, his eyes widening. “She went to them?”

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